It's All Coming Back to Me

They say lots of things are like riding a bike, e.g. you never really forget.

A part of biking I'd more or less forgotten was the feel of falling. It came back to me a couple hours back.

I was on my new bicycle, nothing especially fancy but the best I've ever owned, aluminum frame, carbon forks, good gearing and tires, relatively lightweight. Bright white trimmed with gray, with even a matching water bottle. I told myself it is probably the last bike I will buy, and I shopped carefully for it.

I'd been away for riding for several years (various reasons including back surgery, laziness, and having my bike stolen from my garage) though I'd been training for a couple years on a stationary bike. So I had this one, but also a strange reluctance to go out on it.

Last week I began riding outside again, and I love it; the bike is fast and easy. I realize now there's a reason people spend money on good ones, and why it was that my riding friends always seemed faster and stronger than me. It wasn't just me. It was also their bikes. And me, too, since I was never hard-core, but the bikes mattered more than I realized,

So anyway, I've been out and about on the new one, cruising the old familiar bike paths, feeling the wind in my face, remembering why I liked it so much for so many years. Nothing long yet, maybe up to 10 miles around the city. My favorite route, before and again, is an old railroad right-of-way converted to a trail. Wide asphalt, smooth, nice shade trees, passing by hippie-yuppie backyards with gardens, canoes and gazebos. I especially like to head for home by going up the mild grade, working hard as I can to build up some speed, and get myself in shape so that I can maybe really do a "Century Before 70" though that may require a lot of serious work and prayer.

Today I was blasting up the trail, politely passing people, and marveling at how relatively easy it felt compared to my memories. I let my mind wander a bit and let the bike wander a bit toward the edge of the asphalt . As I said, the trail is wide, but usually joggers run alongside it, so that there are ruts on each side and a bit of a drop 0ff.

Well.

Before I realized what was happening I slipped down onto the rut, couldn't get back onto the trail, and began bouncing along at a pretty good clip. I've been trying again to get used to clip-on shoes, and as I rolled along I tried to do some fast calculations, how to slow down, keep my balance, and get my feet out of the clips. Of course, when I think too much I get too rigid, and then my balance gets off. So anyway, in one of those slow-motion falls that one hears about, I went down, sort of rolled with my bike, fortunately ending up in and on a thick patch of soft green weeds.

I swore, and a nice lady stopped to see if I was okay. "Fine," I said, "just my pride." I got up, and all did seem okay. She asked if I was sure, I said, yeah, and she slowly rolled off down the trail, glancing back once or twice.

All I could think was that it would have been ironic indeed if I'd totalled the new bike when it only has fewer than 100 miles on it. And I thought about what it would look like if I had gotten hurt, the story would have been about a 69-year-old man who didn't have the sense to stop cycling. A distorted picture, since I've been
I've been riding bikes off and on for many years, and more seriously for thirty of the last forty. And intend to do it for years more. Accidents happen, though far as I can remember this is the only time I ever really went down, though I recall some close calls.

They say that if you want to know how old people think you are, you should fall down. If people laugh at you, you're young. But if they come to help you . . .. .A couple guys did stop and one worked with me to get my chain back on the rings, and looked over the bike with me. All was good. I felt okay (though my knee hurts a bit right now). All was intact. Things could have been much much worse, if I'd been out on the highway and gone into a ditch, or even if I'd gone a bit further where I was and off the railbed and into someone's yard, or hit a rock.

But none of that happened, and the bike and I rode uneventfully home. Tomorrow I'll be heading out again, I got places to go and I really really do like having the wind in my face and feeling the sunshine and the pleasant tiredness of pushing the pedals. I consider this a wakeup call, a reminder that there's no pleasure without pain, no fun without risk.

Back in the saddle again, and I love it. Even the falling down part. Though I'd like to keep that to a minimum.